


Matter of Echoes

by sugarbombshell



Series: Matter of Echoes [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, CyberLife Tower, Eventual Smut, Eventual violence, Hate to Love, M/M, Mystery, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, m/m - Freeform, mature rating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarbombshell/pseuds/sugarbombshell
Summary: After a peaceful resolution with the androids, the humans of Detroit have been leaving in droves as suggested by the government. The city is steadily becoming the center for android habitation, though most areas are now empty and broken. While most humans have opted to leave, some remain to help. However, as more androids pour in from other areas of the country, supplies are starting to dwindle. Now eyes turn to the dilapidated, broken CyberLife tower as the need rises for blue blood and parts, as well as a swollen rumor of "classified information" still inside.At the request of Markus, Connor and Hank have joined a small team from Jericho to survey the abandoned tower. Though the tower was once considered a safe haven, Connor can't shake his apprehension. While he's assisted with the reconstruction of the city with Hank's help, something about the hollow tower doesn't sit well with him. Inside, there are clear signs that something or someone is still around, though everyone aside from Hank seems unconcerned. The pressure for Connor mounts as the search continues, something tugging at the recesses of his memory. Is the tower truly empty, or is there something else inside?
Relationships: Connor/Daniel (Detroit: Become Human), Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Series: Matter of Echoes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014501
Kudos: 10





	1. Into the Tower

Deafening.

Something about the absence of people made everything all the louder. A crumpled paper bag gave way to the thunderous bout of raindrops hitting from overhead. In the distance, shutters clapped angrily against the cracked glass while the wind whistled through the remote alleys and streets. Endless barking was only dampened by the rain that had picked up as the wind blew hard against it. Abandoned. Quiet. Only words on the news to explain Detroit as it was now. Without the humans that had fled, it was neither abandoned nor quiet. It was the loudest it had ever been.

On the cusp of the myriad of noises was a low, steady hum. It warmed the senses of the ears, but the meaning was well lost on him. Crack. Crinkle. Screech. Bark. A symphony of sounds made a song from away from the clattering of the rain as it moved to the mercy of the wind. The hum was getting louder to compensate. Was it a mechanical noise? Splash. Someone was hurriedly moving away, running in the gutter next to the curb. Muffled and droning, the hum was growing to not only match the rain but to surpass it.

_What is that noise…?I_

“CONNOR! Did you hear a damn thing I’ve said?!” The gruff voice cut through the distracting audio.

Blinking wordlessly, he could finally focus again, and his vision settled, snapping his brown hues back to the older man nearby. Per the usual, Hank stared back with an annoyed air. A troubled man's mood is made worse by the rain. The gray of his hair moved softly from the wind but had grown frizzed and matted by the barrage of rain overhead. It reminded Connor of when they had let Sumo out during rain some weeks earlier. Though he imagined Hank smelled better, despite looking more miserable.

"I'm sorry Lieutenant. I was…" He paused. Slowly his auditory sensors were coming back down from the overwhelming orchestra of noises around him. It settled back to the soft howl of the wind as it gusted against the rain, making it both smooth and challenging as it sailed through with ease. "Distracted." He summarized.

“No fucking kidding. And for the… what, 600th time? Stop calling me Lieutenant. It’s Hank. ONLY Hank.” Rasp, his voice had fallen into the gruff, dismissive toe Connor was used to. He wiped his damp sleeve of the faded brown leather jacket and moved his hand to his face, shaking off the water that had gathered in his beard. Huffing softly, he crossed his arms and settled back against his car, leaning on the wet surface. Wrinkles were apparent on his forehead as his brows furrowed. Clear as day, he had more to say, but Hank was less of an enigma than he pretended to be.

The android had grown accustomed to his behavior. The subtle lines on his brow were a sign of his annoyance and unease. Connor assumed it to be a deflection tactic that he’d developed for himself. Which had worked until he’d entered the picture, he surmised. Clearing his throat, he tilted his head back to his direction. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, but even now as an acting police presence I wanted to make sure not to overstep by using casual-“

“For fuck’s sake!” Hank erupted, staring back like an incredulous owl. “There is no police presence in Detroit. No department, no police. No police, no lieutenant. So from here on out, it’s Hank. Got it?” It was not unkind, just weary from repeating it daily for him.

Connor responded with a quiet stare, his eyes blinking like two camera lenses attempting to focus, and he nodded with a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "I see your point, Hank." He emphasized his name. Conceding was the low road, but the easier route in situations like these. Above them, the rain had eased to a light sprinkle, and the dark cloud overhead had blown off. His eyes moved away from the car and down the long stretch of road behind him.

Above the two minuscule men, the tower of CyberLife raised up, splitting the low hanging rainclouds. The passing storm left a glittering graveyard of broken glass around the monolith. At the same time, it had washed the dust of the debris on the outside. As the tallest building in the area, it stuck out like a sore thumb. It reminded Connor of a Christmas tree. Though he had seen a few in person, the one that stood out in his mind had similar bright, white lights. Similarly, the top worked fine and was bright, but the bottom had been worn and dog-chewed. It was sparse, to say the least, utterly dark in some areas and others where the small bulbs flickered in futility. Hank said it was good enough for Santa, so it was good enough for the house. Connor had agreed, though he recalled the trees decorating the city to be more festive. Yet, something was endearing about the tree still trying to shine despite everything working against it.

The CyberLife tower lacked any feelings of endearment. The darkness felt twisted. Hollow. The lights here were the remnants of a time before freedom. Any fondness he'd had before he broke free of himself vanished on his last trip. A shiver went down his spine, remembering seeing the other RK800 unit with Hank. I swore that would be the final time. He thought, releasing a soft sigh as his gaze wandered over the tower and settled back to the cement underneath them.

"I give him two more minutes before we head back into town." Hank grunted, entirely oblivious to Connor's wandering gaze or reminiscing. He jostled his jacket so he could see his watch, pursing out his lips before settling back on his car, stretching out his hands and shaking off the excess water that had settled over him. "You'd think a "savior" would at least be on time to meet someone." Droplets fell off of his sopping hair, and he pushed stray pieces away, rubbing his hands back onto his jacket.

“Well, even a savior is not immune to the aftermath of a chaotic evacuation.” Slowly, the left side of his lips curled into a cheeky grin. “Unless you’re suggesting he might be able to fly now?”

"Ha. Ha." There was no attempt to hide his sarcasm, and he exhaled deeply.

Humor was something Connor had to work at. Even as he was now, he maintained the glimmer of his former life. Programming was like learning how to ride a bike, always there, and something he could call upon, but he would have to try to push it entirely from his mind. At least by now, he managed the half-smile. Studying Hank’s face had its advantages, and, so far, remained unnoticed by the detective. Instead, he remained a gargoyle, staring at the ticking seconds on his wrist.

Out of habit, Connor's hand found its way to his sweater pocket. It was a poofy sweater with a deep pocket, and nestled inside was a coin that he moved between his fingers slowly. They were still just waiting.

He tilted his head back to the detective slowly. “Lieu-Hank?”

“Mm.” He snorted.

“Why haven't you gone with the others?" Connor squinted as a gust, threw up the light drizzle into his face, and he wiped it against his sleeve.

If his eyes could roll harder, Hank’s would be lodged into the back of his head. A whoosh of wind moved between them in a quiet moment. A twinge of regret crept into Connor’s mind, expecting him to deflect as he did with questions that were difficult to answer. But was surprised to find Hank’s blue eyes staring back at him with a piercing gaze.

“Detroit sucks.” He began matter-of-factly, shifting on the car to be more comfortable. "But, it's home." There was a shrug, and his arms moved to hold his elbows. "There is no martial law, suggested action or even Presidential order that's gonna get this old man out of his home. Too much there to just leave." His posture relaxed, and a somber gaze replaced the direct, hard stare. "Plus, someone has to keep an eye on… things."

The pause did not escape notice. It didn't take predictive programming to tell that he meant much more than "things." In Hank-speak, it was his way of saying "you" towards Connor. Connor eased his curious face into a calm, sincere one. "I imagine moving when you've lived here so long is-“

“Why I’m out in here the goddamn rain!” The moment ebbed just as abruptly as it had started. “Can’t you call Markus with that little thing..?” He tapped on his own head where he could still see the bright blue light from Connor’s forehead. Instinctively, the android’s hands grabbed at his beanie and pulled it back over his temples as the detective continued on his grumble. "What the hell is taking them so long? 75% of the human population evacuates and there's STILL traffic?"

Hypothetical questions were a trap. It was a hazard to any and all of his interactions with both human and android alike. A twitch of his throat was the sign for one of his patented "auto-replies," which they had been dubbed. Rather than let it form, he clenched his jaw and puffed out his cheeks, making it physically impossible to speak.

“You look like you just shoved a frog in your mouth.”

For someone who missed the mimicry of his smile, he was on point with signs of distress. Even when agitated, Hank had the skills of a long career etched into his brain. Much like my programs. Thought Connor, who had slowly unclenched his jaw and released the air from his mouth. A hand moved to his head again, adjusting the beanie and pressing the escaping hairs back up into it. The motion was comforting, though unbearably "unfashionable," or so he'd been told. "Yes, well-"

CRUNCH.

Hank flinched, and his head flew to stare at the source. An automated car had scraped up against one of the scattered metal panels from the CyberLife tower. It thumped and squealed, moving over it slowly. While Hank glared, Connor turned calmly to stare at it. At the front, the words "Automatic Driver" flickered off, and "Manual" appeared as the car swerved erratically to the side of the larger pieces of debris. It pushed over a long, twisted piece of metal before coming to an abrupt stop in front of Hank's car. With a hissing noise, the door creaked open, and several figures moved out from inside.

Connor recognized them from Jericho from their clothes and arms that they carried. The first to emerge was a TR400 model, which towered over the others, with dark hair and dark eyes that quickly scanned the area. At his side, an ST200 with red hair and green eyes held a large gun at her front. They both were wearing leftover police armor, with “Detroit Police" scratched out and "Jericho" painted over it. A third member was unrecognizable to him but carried a bright orange crossbow, likely taken from a sporting goods store—a small but tactical team. Connor remarked, sliding over to stand by Hank. North popped out next, jumping from the car and turning to slap at the door frame. "Well, you were right. Still programmed and everything, but still useless with all of this mayhem!" The snide remark made her smile as she moved backward towards her comrades.

“I figure you would be used to that by now.” Markus teased, stepping out onto the sidewalk, pressing against the door that shut with a gentle glide of his hand.

Leader. Savior. Terrorist. Deviant.

All of the words used to describe Markus seemed off. Connor had come to that conclusion long ago and regarded differently than either the shallow outsiders who did not know him or the members of Jericho who knew him very well. The dual tones of his eyes held a commanding and lingering gaze. Compassion, conviction, strength, humility… the words raced through Connor's mind as he stared at him. On the back of his long, military jacket, the symbol of their fight was sewn in with the words "Jericho" over it. It demanded attention, but he wore the collar of the jacket down with no weapons in sight. Even as a pacifist, Connor was sure he had something hidden underneath the coat but noted it was likely a conscious decision to not have anything visible. Image. Markus maintained his approachability and visibility yet held the command and respect of others. A formidable combination to master, but Markus did so with what looked to be ease.

“About damn time!” Hank exclaimed, derailing any thoughts that lingered. He closed the gap between himself and Markus, given his long stride, and attacked him gingerly with a handshake. Markus obliged with a smile.

"Sorry to keep you both waiting. We wanted to take extra precautions with supplies and cleared the route as we made our way here." Markus released his hand from Hank, giving him a smile, and nodded back to Connor, staring at them both with interest. "Been any movement?" He asked, with a sideways glance at the monolith.

“You mean aside from the rain?” Hank was back to shaking his jacket off from the light drizzle.

“None.” Connor had moved nearby, elaborating. “We’ve been at this position and no one has entered or exited." With a hand, he motioned towards the center of the structure. "The movement we noticed from the telescope is most likely from the lit areas in the center that are flickering. That with the debris continually falling, it would appear what we've been seeing are shadows."

Markus gave him a knowing not, staring back to the building with a thoughtful stare. He, despite the warnings of others, trusted Connor and his judgment. He was almost like a brother to him, with them both being prototype models with special programming. Markus opened his mouth to reply, but there was a soft sigh from his side. "We won't know for sure until we go inside." North had lifted her gun, resting her hand against her shoulder, tapping it against herself. "They locked it all down once the shit hit the fan. I know you came from here with everyone you could find, and that was amazing." Her eyes locked to his with a condescending glint. "But the building is huge. The humans might have been told to leave, but clearly, not all of them have."

Her eyes looked over Hank.

“They let us take the city, but we don’t know who or what might have decided to stick it out here with us.” She shrugged, but the motion was fast, quick. Certain.

Ever poignant, Connor did not skip a beat. “If that is the case, we need to clear the structure. CyberLife security measures would locked down the storm shutters. Any data would have been deleted and anything confidential, destroyed.” The same smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “The storm shutters are destroyed, so we can assume the rest came to pass. There would be no reason to linger or loot as there would be no benefit.”

“Easy kids.” Hank rubbed at the creases on his forehead, glancing at Connor but with a smirk on his face. North laughed with a hearty grin, staring back at the once-CyberLife-controlled android. “Anyone can find a reason to do anything. Benefit or not.” She replied, turning away to the group that had congregated together. “Root! Chariot! Let’s go secure that perimeter. Sammy, go up the side there and see if you can get a good look at the inside from out here.” She barked orders as they moved toward the base, weapons drawn and ready, and bodies poised to use them.

Connor was silent. Not stunned, but curious. "Well, she's… not wrong?" He let slip loudly. Hank's hand found its way to his shoulder, squeezing it softly with a few pats to follow. "You just got told, son." He chuckled. "Let's just get on board now before we waste a trip out here." He slipped away, stepping around the gnarled debris and glass, muttering obscenities as he went. Despite the comforting motion and words, the LED on his head spun yellow, and he grabbed the hat to push back down on it again, shoving his hands into his warm, deep pockets. Embarrassment was not one of the emotions he did well with.

Markus moved to his side, staring back at him fondly. "It gets easier." He nodded sagely. "You're doing just fine. It's all at your own pace." With a tilt of his head and glance from his eyes, he motioned Connor forward to join the others with him. The glass crunched under his feet, and Connor stared at that bright image on his back again. "How much easier should it be?" He whispered to himself, pulling his hands out to his side, and he hurried behind him to join the party.

"All clear!" North shouted from the central lobby's remains, her voice echoing up into the large open chamber of the central opening. On her head was a bike light on a head-strap, manufactured to see the details. She flicked it on and turned her head, getting a better look at the darkened inside. "The power is cut off to this floor for the most part, but looking at the schematics of this building we’ll need the elevator power back on to get to all of the floors.” "Jesus Christ!" The Lieutenant shouted, staring at the vast space of the lobby. Overhead, the light systems failed, leaving only a few stubborn lights that flickered with a scraping noise, grasping at life. Different floors flickered differently, and only a few were consistent towards the top of the inner tower. “This place is a mess.” He shook his head, kicking at the floor and immediately coughing into his jacket. “Gah!” Spit flew as he coughed again, inhaling quickly, and he shook his head as he walked around to the front desk to conduct his own investigation. His flashlight danced light over the desk, and he settled on the phones hanging off their docks. "They sure left in a hurry. These phones are all off the hook."

While Hank went off on his own, talking out the clues with himself, Markus craned his neck to stare straight up, mapping out the area quickly in his brain. It was a slow-scan down before he looked at the others near him. "It's strange knowing I've been here before, seen this room before, yet don't have any memory for it."

Popping, the glass underneath Connor jumped from the pressure, and he nodded in agreement, watching Root walk the perimeter, his towering height being the most useful for surveying beyond their purview. "That is standard operating procedure. Unless you worked for CyberLife or were made personally by Kamski, those early memories were deleted once delivered to a shop or destination.” Idly, his hand pet over the dusted desk, leaving trails from his fingers in the caked dirt. “There are access stairs to the maintenance panel on the other side, there. ” The other hand pointed to the main chamber, which held an atrium below it. An alcove behind the large statue at the center had the sign “Maintenance” blinking in and out of view. “They will only go to the maintenance areas, so North is correct. We will need the elevators to get around to the entire structure.”

Hearing her name, North silently motioned to the others. They moved quickly across the bridges over the atrium, heading behind to the area. Thud! The heavy door made a resounding noise, and the patter of moving booths slowly vanished. "Clear!" Someone called back, but the noise was gone.

“Be careful.” Markus pressed against his ear to relay the message to them, walking to the side where an elevator sat. “Hmmm, this connects here….” His voice trailed off as he looked at it, undoing a nearby panel.

“Question,” Hank interjected into the following dead air, walking around the desk and kicking aside a fallen clipboard. “For a bunch of smart guys that built this place, why only have stairs in some places and not the whole building?" Under the clipboard, a red card was covered in dust. He bent down, picking It up and blowing off the dust quickly, shoving it into a pocket and walking around in a circle to examine the cracked floor. “What, they were seriously thinking nothing like this would happen?” He coughed again, spitting over the side to the shaken trees. “Damn dust…” Grumbles filled his mouth also.

“It was less about the function and more serving of a purpose.” The panel popped loudly as Markus pried it open, the skin of his hand retreating as he pressed against the lifeless hand panel. “Keep your higher-ups, money makers, and genius separate from the rest of the world so it can’t get tainted.” Together, his lips formed a thin line that he pressed tightly before relaxing his jaw again. Nothing happened with the panel, and he turned back to stare at the other two.

“Kind of sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” He smiled weakly.

Above, a buzzing began, and the lights in the room slowly flickered on. There was a crescendo of noise as the expansive room roared to life. In a spiral, the lights turned back on to the floors and balconies facing the inner side. The lights of the statue flicked on, showing the figure raised far above them. Underneath, the lights for the atrium turned back on, and the trees swayed. Many had been badly damaged or broken. With the lights illuminating the area, the extent of the bridge area's damage was visible, with long, deep cracks running every which way under where their feet would be.

Connor flinched at the long cracks which had been dark. They had not noticed at the time, but they could quickly have fallen or sustained injury. And Hank… “I’m gonna nick this in the bud…” Hank called, his eyes staring up at the rebooting screens around them where the CyberLife logo appeared.

**“WELCOME TO CYBERLIFE! GET YOURS-”** Before the opening spiel could begin, the detective had pulled the chords to the main speakers, neatly hidden in a panel behind a plant, making a warbled noise before it fell back to the noise of the wind gusts outside and swaying metal from higher in the spire. “I am not… listening to that… again.” Gritted teeth left no questions on how he felt of the droning advertisements. “Can we get the elevator going, or what?” The pale blue hues had settled back on Connor, a flick of his pupils telling him to help.

“Or what?” Connor repeated, moving to Markus’s side to look at the panels. “Is it not responding?” Inside he was scanning it, attempting to find the problem.

“Not to me.” Markus moved his hand back, grabbing hold of it as he pushed the skin back in place.

_Need proper clearance level._ The words flashed across his vision in his scans, and he pulled out of it, staring at the panel and moving his hand to it, his skin pulling back as he made contact with it. The elevator lights roared to life. “Android Connor Identified.” A warbled female voice spoke, and the doors slid open. He retrieved his hand and turned back with a satisfied grin. “We can use this.”

“Hey, hey did we get it!” An echoed voice called out from the stairwell, North hurrying back with the others, staring at the open elevator with both excitement and disappointment. “Guess you’re useful, Connor.” She spoke slyly, whistling loud. “Come on! Let’s do this from top to bottom! ” From above, the archer of their group landed hard. Congregating, the small group, plus one annoyed detective, stared at the elevator.

Markus entered, staring at the panel inside. “It’s not going to agree with the rest of us… We’re in your hands, Connor.”

Pride filled his chest, and he moved in while the others shuffled in like sardines. Hank, being Hank, squeezed in next to Connor and away from the others. They'd met many times before, but he was not about to get friendly with any of them. His face was screaming about personal space, but he kept his mouth shut about it.

Connor nodded at him, staring back. “I won’t have access to all of these rooms, so I will go to one I know I will.” His throat cleared. “Connor. Level 31.” A soft whir sounded as the door slowly shut on them. “Voice recognition validated.” Lurching, the elevator thumped loudly as it pulled them up slowly.

North was staring daggers into the back of Connor's head, skeptically. Markus shook his head at her, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze. Both of them went unnoticed as Connor stared directly ahead as they moved.

“Think we should have taken two elevators?” Hank said, staring down at the slow ascend. “What happened to the other one?”

Connor’s eyes darted to the elevator across the way with brown stains dried on the door as they had been splattered on the clear inside, two armored bodies lumped inside. “It’s out of order.” He spoke casually as they moved further up, his eyes staring back at the reflection from the doors in front of them.

“Of course it is.” Hank leaned his head back and banged his head to the side of the elevator, not bothering to look out at the clear view. “At least there isn’t music.”

Fourteen pairs of eyes stared at the panel expectedly. Still, there was a communal sigh of relief among them. At the same time, the elevator finally breached into the top section of the tower. There was a soft ding, and the voice returned. “Level 31. Marketing: Collaboration" It spoke politely, and the doors opened. Peeling out, North motioned with her hands and fanned out with her small group. Markus was quick to join her, scanning and looking overhead to assess the building damage. Connor grimaced as he entered the homely lobby, which had sleek black walls and revolving slogans on flat televisions. The saying, ”Making a Better Life, CyberLife.” kept appearing on the screens. Connor turned away his gaze, but he grimaced at the "Get Yours Today!" screen nearby.

“This floor was used as the central area for the distributors, sponsors and others trying to partner with CyberLife Industries.” He shook his head. “My handlers would also use the facilities on this floor to communicate my relationship with the Detroit City Police Department, which is why I came here.”

“So this is where those idiots were?” Hank had walked in, kicking his shoes against a nearby chair.

“We can learn about your dark past later, _negotiator_.” North motioned with her head. “Show me where the maintenance stairs are. We need to get in there to get to the higher levels. Maybe we can even get all the way to the top… I’d like to see that. Then we head back down this cylinder.”

“It’s over there to the right.” Markus said, moving in the direction as he’d already scanned the layout. "Root, help me." He motioned to his larger companion, who complied, walking to the door and the Jericho squad moved to it. Connor remained still, staring at the desk where he had checked in several times before he was sent to the police department.

“Connor." Hank's voice cut through him, and he walked over. "You sure you're good with doing this with them?" The concerned stare returned. “Not that it’s the time or the place for it, but if you do need to unload at any time, you know I’m here.”

Connor gave an apologetic look in return with his eyebrows raised. “Thank you, Hank. I’ll be just fine.” Slowly, he followed after the others, hearing a loud crash and sidestepping a door landing beside him. “Ah, there was probably a lever for that.” He looked back at the group.

“Helooooooo!!!” North called up into the shaft, hearing the bouncing echoes from the stairs going up and down through the tower.

His eyebrow twitched.

Markus turned, catching the look on his face, and stared into the doorway. "We do have to clear the whole building. We've got some C4 in case we get stuck somewhere. If you could help us with your insider knowledge, we can make it a quick in-and-out job.” He faltered. “Though, I would like to check the computers in case there is something. We could always use new parts and more blue blood. Not sure if there would be any remaining manifest here, but it would help our people greatly.”

Stunned, he made a soft smile back to Markus. “I do always want to help as much as I can.” Echoing through the stairs, his words faded. “Though, there are many floors here. And most of the floors are ones I have never seen.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?!” North was leaning in the doorway. “While you guys were talking, Root and Chariot already cleared this floor. Management is up a few floors, should we go say hello?” She waved her gun, welcomingly at them.

Hank, who had been preoccupied staring at a tiny scale model of the city in the middle of the room, turned his head to them, squinting in their direction. “I’m never gonna get used to you all just scanning and clearing instead of going room by room…” Muttering, he followed up behind them as they moved up the stairs quickly in a sweeping motion.

There was hesitation for Connor as he watched them move, walking into the stairway and staring at the maze of stairs heading up in the tower. Despite knowing the building from experience, and logically knowing that there would not be others there, there was a knot somewhere near his stomach. “Okay, up and then down…”

\--------

He really hated how easy the scanning made it for the crew. Markus and Connor alone were enough. With both pre-constructive and reconstructive programming, they were an unstoppable duo. The Marketing floors were quick work; with Markus, he could quickly tell them where it was safe to walk while his team swept through the floors like a flood. Clearly, he was the odd man out, and he was feeling it as they moved up through the stairs.

Connor stopped several times as they moved up, giving the older detective the time to catch up. Begrudgingly, Hank kept his words to himself. After all, Connor never meant to be obnoxious, after all.

“You don’t have to smile like that though.” Maybe he couldn’t keep all of his words to himself, as he blurted out. “How far are we…?” Slowly he looked back at the stairs, huffing and looking back up.

“We’re coming up on 40 now. This is where the management offices are.” Connor looked back to the door that the others had already infiltrated. “I’m happy to be making quick time. The descent should be easier than the climb.”

A cheeky grin met his gaze. “Easy for you to say, last time I was here I was at gunpoint but still got to use the elevator.” He kicked a shoe against the door frame as the door slid open and moved inside to a chorus of “Clear!” ringing out through the offices.

“Ah… well…” Smothering. Even without the tie on, Connor felt smothered at his neck and had to pull away his sweater to follow him. Dark humor was a project of many in understanding and feeling emotion. The practice could help, but it took a particular knack that he hadn't grasped yet. Though living with Hank was starting to get him there, slowly but surely.

“Connor!” Markus called from a distance, his voice traveling what sounded like a cavern. “I need your help with something if you could come up!”

"I thought we were already up?!" Calling back, he could hear emptiness, and his voice echoed back. Clacking against the clean floor, he moved into the main room, which was wide and circular. Unlike the earlier floors, it was an entire floor and not designed around the tower's middle. He passed through a defunct security gate that had been disabled by a chair wedged deep inside the machinery. “That is one way to stop it.” He spoke candidly.

Clank!

Connor stopped in his tracks, his hair moving softly from a breeze, and his eyes focused on the windowed walls, and he slowly stepped into a large, open waiting room. The chairs were at ends with a white, blocky desk with the word "Reception" hovering above it from the lights above. A sterile quality, the room had black, clean floors with white accessories. Bamboo stalks littered the side, but another clank called his attention. Fresh air was blowing in from a window that had been shattered.

A discarded trash bin was rolling against a metal table with a chair facing to the outside. His scanning was already fired up and looked at the rest of the room where every table had two chairs between them, but this one was missing. He crossed to the window to look out at the scene. Yellow flashes invaded his vision as he could see the glass had been broken outward. "It was broken from the inside." He spoke quietly to himself, his eyes following where the table had been run into and was askew. Slowly he walked the trail behind the reception desk. Several displays had been ripped from the walls, and there were mounds of dirt where the decorative plants had been toppled over. Papers were littered everywhere, torn like confetti. Connor stopped, staring back at the window, his software quickly figuring that strength needed to break glass designed to withstand Detroit winters' harsh weather. A blue dot on the floor piqued his interest, and he moved to it, staring along a trail leading deeper into the offices.

Instinctively, he knelt at the dried spot and reached his fingers outward to the stale blueblood.

“What are you doing?” A sharp voice pulled him out of his scanning. Slowly he moved his gaze to the source, staring at the same cold eyes that had followed him the entire time. North's eyebrow was raised, and she had her gun dangling in her hand towards the floor.

“I was investigating the broken window. It is the only visible damage to this floor, and the blood here, I was going to identify which-“ He stopped himself. “I mean, who it may have belonged to and see if they are possibly still around.”

She grunted. “That doesn’t matter right now.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “But if there is someone here with us-“

“They’d be one of us.” North glared. “So it doesn’t matter. Go up and help Markus.” Tiredly, she pointed to a spiral staircase nearby.

Frowning, he moved silently without another word to her. North’s continued aggressive behavior towards him was tedious and annoying. She was not the first to distrust him. Considering his previous job, he knew he couldn’t blame her. Action spoke louder than words, and he was determined to show them all exactly what he was about.

Even the softest of his footsteps sent the spiral staircase trembling. Clearly, it was built as an afterthought, a way for management to move between their own floors without having to leave the confines of their area. Quickly, he climbed up to the top floor, which was just as sleek and modern as the others.

Two white doors were torn clean off from the entrance to a large office nearby. Despite them being sliding doors, they had been cleanly taken off. “Mmm.” A soft noise emitted from him as he stepped into the large office. The back end was all windows, less sloped than the outside ones but a good view over the city. A long white and black desk sat at the back with sleek white chairs facing it. At the walls to his sides were built-in shelves, filled with books. _Or holograms of books._ Connor thought, trying not to stare at the bamboo planters nearby. Statues of faceless forms were placed on opposite ends, both holding up a mass of glowing pipes. Several strange art pieces were strewn about, including a wire cage shaped like a heart that reminded him of visiting Kamski. A memory he’d rather forget.

Hank had a different opinion, clearly. He'd taken up one of the comfy couches in the corner, leaning back with his hands folded over his eyes. Sammy was at the edge of the window, peering over. At the same time, Markus sat alone behind the computer, his hand pressed against the screen, but his concerned frown told Connor he was not having much success.

“I hear you need help.” He spoke clearly, sauntering to the desk to see.

"Not a lie, I can't access this." Markus put simply, pulling his exposed hand away from it.

"Hacking isn't working." A tooth pulled at his lip, and he pushed up from the plush black chair, staring back at it.

Connor blinked. “Not working?” _That’s new._ Red messages had popped up over the screen with “Unauthorized Access” flashing in big, bold letters.

“It doesn’t make sense.” His heterochromia eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’ve had challenges before, but never refusals. Tried to find a bypass, but it wouldn’t work. Scans won’t pick up anything strange about it either. If you could find a way in, we could get the information from it. CEO should know a few things, right?”

He stifled a teasing laugh, opting to stare at the screen instead. It was unusual to see Markus flustered, but it was endearing to see his cool façade drop. Made him more real. Connor decided it best to not mention anything and instead pressed his hand to the screen. “It could be fingerprint encoded, that might be why.” His eyes were already scanning the desk, looking around, and it settled on the keyboard. “This might work.” On the desk was a digital frame showing pictures of a family, a tablet without power, and some other office gear.

His hand settled on a tape dispenser, and he grabbed a piece, pulling it off. Unsuccessfully. It stuck to his hand and wrapped over itself. "Ah!" He tried getting another, but it got stuck too, and he pulled the pieces off. Markus was staring, unsure of what to say or do. "Maybe… you're the one who needs some help?" He finally said, pulling off a clean piece and handing it to him.

Connor’s hand was covered in failed attempts, and he took the clean piece from him slowly. “Maybe... a little.” Sheepishly, he moved the tape to the keyboard and pressed it down, taking it up and shoving it to the screen with some pressure from his fingertips.

“Authorized User Detected.” The computer said back, the red screen fading to a homepage with the CyberLife logo. Quickly, he yanked the tape back and smiled. “I’m surprised that worked, but we’ve got it.”

Markus slammed his hands on the desk happily. “We’ve got it!” He exclaimed, leaning over Connor to stare back at the screen excitedly. “Now if we…” The shimmer in his eyes went flat.

“Where are all the files?”

"Files?" Connor's brain clicked, and he stared at the screen, letting out a long sigh. The background of the computer was bare with the CyberLife logo, but nothing was on the desktop. He held his hand up, poking the screen where the menu would be, but all it brought up was the computer's settings. Both stared at it longingly, but they were silent and motionless.

"So, you recall me telling you about the security protocols right?" Connor broke the silence with a sideways glance at Markus, feeling the frustration steaming off of him.

“Yes.” He groaned. “Yes I do… damn.” He shook his head and moved back, clenching his fists but controlling himself enough to not slam them into the nearest wall.

“I’m sorry, Markus.” Connor began, looking back to the distraught leader. “There is some hope though, it could be just the management computers were wiped on their own because of their personal data. The lower floors where the assembly and warehouses are might be intact.” It was hopeful, but he hated seeing him like that. There was the chance of truth to it, though, if they had left in a hurry or if a backup system was in place.

Markus seemed satisfied, nevertheless. “Then we need to make our way down.” He smiled and whistled loudly. “We gotta start heading down now! Did you guys check all the rooms?!" Quickly, he stepped out, and Sammy followed after him, leaving Connor and the detective in the room.

Smiling, Connor poked the computer before getting up, standing behind the desk. “Are you ready for the long walk down?” The old detective groaned, sitting up from his chair. “Fuck no.” he replied, leaning back to stretch. Connor chuckled, and his hand reached out to press the power button on the screen, but a message had appeared across the screen.

**Entry logged to 583-15 POD** was scrawled in a window over a percentage bar, which was quickly moving. Connor stared at it, and it made a soft beep as it disappeared. He squinted. There had been nothing to access on the computer, so it was odd to him that any log would exist. Shutdown mode had already been engaged, and the light flicked off of the screens. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hank interrupted.

“We better get after them before they decide to use those explosives. The last thing we fucking need is an explosion in here might break a water pipe or who knows what..” He let out a chuckle, heading to the exit.

Connor debated to himself about the importance of the strange computer message. North’s earlier comments played in his head and forced a smile out of him. “Or a window, falling from this height might be problematic.” He jogged over to him, nodding as he passed him. “Back down we go!”

Steely blue eyes peered at him, staring through him. He was painfully aware of the forced smile and the odd comment, shrugging to himself. He’ll have to tell me sooner or later. Connor couldn't keep a secret for that long, not when it bothered him that much. Eventually, he'd get the truth. He always did.

\---------

“I just don’t get why you can’t just let Root hulk-rip the door off! Or use the C4, it is why we brought it, isn't it?!" North's sharp voice echoed in the elevator, cutting through the awkward layer like a hot knife. Everyone avoided contact, and Markus could feel the fire at the back of his neck, turning with his eyes narrowed, staring directly back to her. “We are not ripping bolted doors off of hinges or _blowing up a building_ without trying an alternate method first. I don’t trust them to leave this building so nice and quiet like this.”

Connor said nothing, but he could feel the glint in his eyes as Markus spoke. Not to say he didn't like North, but he could say without a reasonable doubt that her attitude bothered him. Instead, he opted to close his eyes for a few moments to take it all in. Behind him, Hank had pressed his head against the side of the elevator that half of his face was flat against it. “Can we settle down kids?” He grumbled to himself. “I’m with Mr. Savior on this one.” Slowly the older detective peeled his face back from the glass. “How about we don’t set off any alarms or blow things up that might be structural to the entire place? I like the idea of staying alive after this.”

Markus could sense the temperature rising from North's anger, his eyes softening as his tone did. "If we start down at the warehouse, which we know has to be open, and work our way back up through Manufacturing to the Shipping areas, we'll have a better chance. I also don't think blowing up anything close to the only functioning elevator is going to help us any."

Backed into a corner, her lips pursed out, and she tilted her head at Markus, her shoulders dropping, and she shook her head. "Fine. That makes sense." Her fingers drummed on the side of her gun while the elevator slowed its approach down to the very bottom floor. No one spoke after, and only the heavy breathing from Hank against the glass. A gentle ding announced their arrival, saving them from their awkwardness. While the soft light of the circular room groaned to life with a shrill clank and pop of electricity. Several of the lights had cracked along the edges while glass covered the ground in areas where they had shattered completely.

“This is a mess.” Said Markus, staring at the vast emptiness of the room. As the elevator doors slipped open, North and her team fanned out quickly. The Jericho leader slowly followed while Hank lingered back in the elevator, letting out an exasperated sigh and rubbing his temples in his hand. “Even if this place is empty, I hate it.” Connor silently agreed, standing next to him as they both stepped out. His eyes scanned the now empty room. Glimpsing to his side, he could see Hank’s breathing had quickened, as did his heartbeat. The scraping of the small groups' shoes on the floor reminded Connor of how his other self sounded while walking. He cleared his throat to hide the noise, loudly taking a few steps. “I already cleared out any of us that were here!” He called out, mostly to North and her small band to hear.

A scoff echoed back to him, and he shrugged back to Hank. North moved further along the perimeter, peeking into the splitting hallways from the central warehouse. "Y’know I once heard a noise like that.” Hank said, scratching at his chin while he walked into the vast openness. The once detective stared with his bright eyes at him. “Where?” Hank gave a sly smile with a cock of a brow. “When I slammed my head into a pole, I made that same exact noise!” He laughed, walking along and staring up at the sorry state of the ceiling. Connor felt himself smile.

"Connor!" Markus's voice reverberated off the walls as he called back to him from the central warehouse elevator. The detective started a slow walk to him, staring at the elevator. "It's surprisingly intact." He said. "But I'm not certain I'll still have access. It might be a repeat of the computer upstairs." Dejectedly, he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his comfortable jacket. Pearly whites gleamed back at him. Whatever temporary sensitivity and frustration over their lack of progress had ebbed, and Markus was radiating with optimism. "I've got a good feeling." He stated simply, looking back at the panel near the door. "Though I can't hack this one, or find another way to use it, I feel it."


	2. Silence and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separated from the rest of the group, Markus, Hank, and Connor delve deeper into the CyberLife tower. Rather than finding any extra supplies, the three stumble across a horrific scene, propelling them to investigate a winding labyrinth of labs and storage spaces. Connor struggles with his group members, trying to keep himself on track without falling back into old habits or self-made sabotages, but his mind is racing. What is the meaning of the grisly scene? What does it have to do with him? Perhaps they'll find the answer, if only they keep moving.

The warmth from Markus’s optimism was contagious in a way that locked up his jaw from his usual, logic-filled retort. Lest he ruin a good thing, he stared back at the central command, where one of the panels pulled off by Markus glowed softly. The dimming light flickered hypnotically, and he took in a deep breath. Slowly, Connor pulled out his hands, staring at them, and he moved closer, reaching the hand out against the panel.

A red glow engulfed the room, accompanied by a warbled, dying alarm that crackled. Connor felt his entire body drop from disappointment. His hand lingered a moment while his eyes found the floor. Recoil made him flinch while a distant snort from North found his ears. Fumbling with his words, he managed a soft gasp. Silence overtook the hollow warehouse, feeling as if time itself had stopped. 

“I’m…” While Connor found his voice again, his hand flattened and drove the right light away. Crackling into life, a voice came through the speaker. “Access Granted.” It said, in a deep masculine voice. The plastic doors slid open with the grace of a cardboard box. A surprise was an understatement. Motionless, after moving back, his hand hung in the air as if he were miming out a skit. Abruptly a hand grabbed his shoulder. “Good job.” Hank gave another pat, though there was deep concern in his eyes. Markus gave an encouraging nod, stepping into the much smaller elevator. 

“Looks like I was right!” There was a moment of happiness, but then he looked at the elevator dimensions with an exasperated sigh. “We can’t all fit.” His tone changed to matter-of-factly, waving Connor and Hank closer to see the inside. 

The lieutenant didn’t hesitate, gently giving Connor an encouraging push to go. “C’mon. I want to get a burger after this.” He said gruffly. Connor stepped quickly with him inside. “I’m sure they’ll still be open for one somewhere.” Dinging, the elevator door slid closed with a loud squeak that echoed into the warehouse as it began to 

“Markus! What the hell are you doing?” North had caught the door right before it closed, giving a darkened glare to the taller leader. “One of _us_ should go with you. There’s no telling what’s on these floors, and taking civilians…” Her eyes motioned over to Connor and Hank. While Connor could tell it came from a place of concern, he couldn’t help the feeling of a fist lodged deep in his stomach. From behind him, he could feel the heat coming from Hank’s anger, though somehow he held onto his response. Markus, on the other hand, ignored the comment and gave her a placating smile. “We’ll send it back down for you. I’m a big boy and can handle it.” He laughed, “If it doesn’t come back down, don’t worry, Hank and Connor are more than capable of taking care of themselves.” 

North’s hand tightened against the door with a creak, “Markus…” 

“It’s fine.” He said more sternly as he placed his hand over hers. Kindly, he tried his smile again. This time, North relented and gave a nod, pulling back her hand so the door could close with a thud. Connor expected a glare but stood looking at a somber face as they ascended slowly. Soft was not a word he would typically use to describe North but assumed she must have those kinds of moments. They all did. 

“How does this thing know what floor? We didn’t press a button.” Hank was as observant as always. Markus and Connor both turned their attention to the older lieutenant in tandem. Like birds, they swiveled back to the elevator panel, which had no visible numbers on its blank, lit screen. “We never designated,” Connor said, quickly scanning the panel. “Even with the damage around the tower, there isn’t any malfunction here.” 

“Not outwardly hacked either.” The leader was also scanning, twisting his body during their ascent to confirm his hypothesis. Hank crossed his arms before putting a palm to his face with a deep groan. Connor stared out of the transparent door panels as they cleared more thoughts. “Manufacturing and shipping floors are down here. Maybe its final protocol was to evacuate from down here. It would explain the automation.” It was a theory, of course. An idea that was immediately proven wrong as the elevator slowed to a stop. 

Despite the see-through doors, a titanium block of a door slowly slid away with a loud whine to reveal a long, curved long hallway. It was blinding as it was lined with bright white lights across the ceiling and at the floorboards. “Not it,” grumbled Hank, a hand already tapping at the side of the gun at its holster in anticipation. “I never took you for the superstitious type,” Markus said, pushing between the two former law enforcers, making his way to lead them into the new territory. Long bulbs hummed in the hallway, buzzing in their ears, and Markus looked between them, carefully scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Aside from the fact the power was running to the floor uninterrupted, nothing stood out. He swept the hallway with his scans, taking a few long strides towards the other side with the large, double doors with a high-end security panel on the side. His eyes focused on the door before starting back at the ground intently as the bright white lights gave way to a vibrant color splashed across the floor, the shining metal doorway, and the panel. 

“Connor, I’ve got blueblood in the hall!” He said, his voice low. 

Connor sprang into action, setting his sights on the long trail down the hallway. “The wound started to bleed more as they moved down this hallway.” His head twisted side to side, mimicking the sweeping pattern of the blue flecks. From where he started, there had been none at all. Squinting, he took notice of the increasing volume as he approached the door. “No.” The detective felt his LED swirling quickly, a bright yellow, as his mind pieced it together slowly, watching the phantom images in his vision. “This wasn’t… a normal wound.” He began. 

Hank had moved into the hallway, watching Connor work as the fog of seriousness fell over them. Connor continued, “This was something else, someone else… these splatters are all fresh from a wound.” He paused, a sickening drop curling in his stomach. “From these smaller ones they get larger around this other door, like something was twisting a limb off of an android.” He took a knee near the panel stained in blue blood, looking at the voids against the nearby wall and door for clues. “There are absences here, showing the perpetrator stood in this very spot as they finally got it free….” The panel stood out to him. “Likely it was a hand or an arm to get access to this room, see the pattern here?” He pointed, though it was only through his ability that he could tell the pressure. His hand ached, and he moved it to the slightly dried blood on the panel. 

From behind, he heard Hank mutter softly as the older man looked away, followed by a soft “Don’t.” A loud groan echoed in the space as Connor pushed his blood-covered fingers to his tongue. The recoil sent him back to his feet, his eyes wide, and he stared back down at his fingers in disbelief. Markus, who had been continuing to scan the perimeter for anything else, looked around in alarm from his reaction. His eyebrows furrowed. “Connor, what is it?” He said with a tremor of concern, moving closer to him. Hank stared with the same concern. 

Silence greeted him, feeling the warmth of blood rush to his ears, and his arm fell limply by his side, staring emptily towards the doorframe. His other hand retreated to the safety of his pocket, anxiously twisting his lucky coin in his fingers. “It’s me,” he said quietly, turning his head to meet Markus’s eyes with mild panic. “My model. Another Connor. Likely one of the ones sent after I deviated.” He grimaced. 

As he spoke, Hank had thrown caution to the wind and hurried to be at his side. “Another one?” He exhaled deeply, pushing down painful memories. “I thought the one that almost killed me was their last-ditch effort. What the hell would it-“he stopped himself, “He be doing in here? There wouldn’t be anything in here to do with you or me or deviants.” There was a slow shake to Connor’s head, “I can’t be sure.” Slowly, his shaky voice was steadying. “But he could not have survived this much blood loss.” His eyes hit the ground at the partially dried puddle of carnage. 

Markus stared with him and reached a hand over, gently cupping his shoulder. “We’ll find out what happened, and who did it.” Conviction filled his tone, but his wandering eyes stared at the door. “It’s obviously something to do with whatever is back there. All I can see is a lot of electricity being funneled in there, but I can’t scan very deeply for some reason.” Connor appreciated his conviction and attempt to change the subject. _That’s strange, though._ He thought, looking back at the door, trying his own scan, getting a similar reading. 

Hank remained close to Connor, but his eyes were transfixed on the sign over the door that read “Research Development.” However, he decided to not say anything about the sign due to the grave conversation matter. Rubbing at his temples, he faked a yawn and gently pressed a hand on Connor’s back. “Well, we better get in there and find out about all of this.” It was uncharacteristic to ignore the obvious, but whatever was bothering Connor deep down was slowly coming out, which worried him. It was more important than his thoughts or even the apparent sign above their heads. 

Connor inhaled deeply, feeling the two men near him, giving him some small sense of comfort, though his eyes moved back down to the floor, and he closed his eyes tightly. His fingers drummed against the coin in his pocket, but he pulled it out slowly as he inhaled. “If another me got in here, then I should also have access.” His hand shed its skin gradually, and he turned, firmly pressing his fingertips to the panel. Its fading light turned green, and a loud popping noise attempted a greeting over the intercom. A squeal turned to a low static as if it had been forcibly silenced. Stuttering, the door slowly opened with the lights humming to life. Instinctively, Markus took point and pushed into the new room first, ready to react if need be. 

He stopped in his tracks. 

Above them the lights were intact, looking down on the small reception area, flickering to make a clear picture. It was the only tidy part of the room as everything else was in a state of chaotic disarray. Everything on the walls had been yanked off forcibly, and the screens were broken, smashed to pieces while the stripped areas of wallpaper crinkled. Markus heard a dripping noise, and he slowly moved his gaze to the reception desk. Pinned to the metal desk by scissors and office equipment was the other Connor, his body slumped over and dripping into a large puddle underneath. 

Blue blood splattered the walls in arterial spray while the desk was dented from the force used to slam the scissors down into the body. His legs were splayed outward, twisted from the knees while his single arm had settled at his back as if he’d tried to remove the scissors that were dead center through his spine. The other arm was missing entirely, the fabric of his clothes shredded where it had been removed by a powerful break. Simultaneously, the joint at the shoulder was exposed, stripped away entirely with splintered metal sticking out along with detached wiring. Behind the desk, the adjoining door was broken, kicked open at the left panel that fell back into the darkness of the next hallway. Meanwhile, the right panel continued to slide open and closed, unable to compensate for the other side of the door. The Jericho leader stood rigid, scanning again despite the fact the attacker had long since moved on, having left the likely still alive other-Connor to bleed out over the desk. 

Drip, drip, drip… The noise echoed to the far reaches of his mind as Connor, pale, stared at his own body. Inside his scans, he could see the entire gruffly scene where his other-self had been flung around the room like a ragdoll, beaten before he met his demise at the desk with the scissors. The dents in the wall with smeared, dried stains told the story as his eyes tracked the events that started from inside the door and ultimately ended at the desk. A large puddle of blueblood was below him while a slowing trickle still flowed from a gash in his occipital area. The glazed over eyes of the body stared blankly back at the three men with his mouth agape, showing where his jaw had been broken. It was a violent action in far excess of what Connor had witnessed in a long while. The surreal nature of it all made him feel as if he were standing in a long tunnel, hearing nothing but a distant droning white noise accompanied by that drip… drop… 

“For crying out loud Connor, you don’t need to stare!” Hank’s voice pulled him back, like waking from a nightmare. Even though the older lieutenant had now seen his fair share of dead Connors, it never got easier. The scene made his stomach sour, and he felt the drench of sweat at his brow, feeling himself grinding his teeth down from his building anxiety and anger. Standing at Connor’s side, he felt another swelling of emotion – the need to protect him. He’d unleashed his firearm, holding it steady in his hands at shooting level. Nothing was going to hurt Connor if he had something say about it, and if something was hunting them, he’d be the first to dispatch it. 

Connor’s body seized up, eyes averting down to the detective’s shoes. There was no secret why he was suddenly at his side, and there was a twinge of relief at feeling him there. Trembling, he pushed back some of his distant memories of death. How the fear crept up along his neck, the hairs standing on edge while his skin saturated with sweat. Heartbeats thundered in his ears before that sickening twist of pain punched through him. Presently, the nausea of that memory swept up into his head and back down in waves, exhaling softly to regain composure. His blue eyes settled back on the mangled corpse of his other-self. “I’m okay,” he squeaked, coughing once to clear his throat. Markus raised an eyebrow as if to ask if he was sure, standing apart from him. Connor nodded haphazardly in his direction, slowly moving his eyes away from the corpse. “Whoever did this knew I had permissions to enter here,” he continued. “So, that makes this person an insider, or at least someone with knowledge of who I am.” 

Hank refused to budge, gun out as he gave a surveying glance past the broken paneled door to the next hallway. “What it makes them, Connor, is dangerous.” Gruffly, he glared down at the circular entryway with a tighter grip on his gun. While in agreement, Connor took a definitive step towards Markus, taking a look at the ground and beyond for the trail of blueblood leading into the next hallway. “Inside and to the left.” He said quietly. Markus moved ahead of them, “Alright, I’m going through first,” he said with a hard stare back to Connor before twisting his body through the broken door. He had a twinge of worry under his confident demeanor, keeping it in check through his palms clenched tightly. 

Hank stifled an audible sigh, relenting with a nod as Markus disappeared through the doorway with a slow, silent lead. He could see a series of hallway loops through his scans, with several circular hallways attached by branching laboratories, offices, and supply closets. Whereas the reception had been utterly destroyed, the labs and their equipment remained untouched. “Who leaves in an orderly hurry?” He spoke softly, looking back at his group and forward again. As a product of his training, Hank peeked into a lab nearby, lifting his gun to clear the room. “Hard to say,” he began, “But from the looks of the dust in here, might just be that no one was using this place for a while and it never got looted since the access is screwy.” Markus met his eyes for a moment, and they nodded in agreement while they pressed onward down the brightly lit hallway, the lights turning on due to the movement. 

Connor silently followed, scanning for himself. While the droplets were few and far between, now stopped entirely, there were faint markings on the walls where the attacker had either leaned on them for support or helped onto them with a hand. They seem disoriented, he thought. _Maybe the attack on the other me was a malfunction? Possibly another android, or a strong human_. From all of his recent work, he’d learned that he couldn’t assume anything anymore, though the brutality of it all pointed at someone with great brute strength. Darting quickly, his eyes moved between the faint markings. He nearly walked into Hank, finally noticing at the two had stopped at the second adjoining hallway, staring intensely into a darkened room with weapons drawn. 

“Wh-“The syllable barely escaped his lips before Hank’s arm shot out behind him, pushing Connor to the wall for safety. 

In a flash, Markus had entered the room, kicking a knocked-over chair into a cabinet nearby. Broken glass poured out and settled onto the ground as the lights slowly flickered to life. Ever poised, the Jericho leader stared intently at the spot, waiting for movement with a gun at hand. The slowness of gravity descended on a dark figure sliding out of the broken cabinet door, ungracefully stuttering against the slick floor as it unfurled itself. Markus shoved his foot down on its back firmly, staring down at it with his gun pointed at its head. The creases in his forehead furrowed while his eyes focused darkly. Hank moved in, pointing his gun at the dark figure with a finger against the trigger to destroy the maybe-Connor-killer. A sharp exhale escaped Markus’s lungs as a few silent moments passed. “It’s a demo shell,” he began, “A hollow-body just for the showrooms.” He retracted his boot and relaxed his body. “That’s one hell of a demo model,” Hank grumbled, staring at the skinless, metal body on the ground. Moving back, he tilted his head back to the opening. “Connor! You okay?” 

“Okay” was a strange concept for Connor to begin with. It could mean good or bad, ecstatic, or destroyed depending on its use. He hadn’t moved a single muscle since Hank had pushed him, and he leaned against the wall. “Connor?” Hank repeated, cursing under his breath that he might have crossed the line. “I’m okay.” A voice meekly escaped from him. Firmly, he grabbed the wall and pushed off from it. _Have I really become so fragile in his eyes?_ The bitter thought dried his throat, and his mouth felt filled with ash as he looked inside. 

Markus stared blankly back at him, feeling some tension rising from the two. “We…” he began. 

“It’s fine.” Connor forced a smile. “Let’s finish clearing this floor and all the rooms, we have to see what happened right?” His voice was flat. 

Hank’s chest twinged with the sensation of guilt deep inside, and he moved back from the body on the floor. Aside from the demo shell, there was nothing of note in the room. Markus moved back from Hank, nodding to Connor as he passed back into the main hallway with the other in tow. However well-meaning Hank had been, Connor’s reaction left him pained in a new way, the guilty pang hitting deeply. Silently, he decided to cover the rear of their little band, moving with the same purpose – protect Connor. To hell with whatever Jericho wanted, clearly, it upset Connor more than he was letting on, and the silence on the matter was suffocating. 

Building tension was slowly leaking out of the situation like a tire losing pressure now, at least, as they moved along, dipping their heads into more rooms. Connor was thankful for the momentary silence but felt an unshakable grip of chill on his body. There wasn’t a “fine” to be found. Clammy hands, clenched jaw, and sweat beads from under his beanie told the truthful story, more so than he could manage to say to himself. 

Abruptly, as they rounded a corner, the lights of a nearby doorway lit up, and all three sets of eyes were drawn to it, their bodies stopped and poised for an attack. The air grew stagnant around them, but Connor charged ahead with a few decisive steps. “Scan’s clear.” He added, much to Hank’s annoyance and concern. 

The brightness of the room was blinding. Connor’s eyes twitched from the change in lighting. “This isn’t a good room to be in for you two,” Hank said as he forced his way ahead of them to clear the room first. His voice was stern but not entirely devoid of caring. With his eyebrows furrowed to a sharp angle, he stared at an arch-shaped machine in the central area of the expansive room. Similar to the reception area, there had been unchecked carnage done to the room. A desk at the corner had been cleaved in two, the metal splintered while debris of the computer screens strewn over the floor. The broken glass glimmered on the floor like a sea under the bright lights. Wiring sparked from different areas from electronics that had been removed, with everything else similarly unusable. Hank’s words hung in the air like a dark cloud as the two behind him squeezed in. 

An assembly room stood before them. The archway was a gleaming piece of metal with armlike appendages both on the outside and inside. Behind the metal construction machine was a set of cabinets with fresh-off-the-line parts. Several were opened and snapped in half, while one marked “Arms” had been shattered open. The nearby eye drawer was open, disheveled, and overflowing. For Markus, it was a much cleaner reminder of the dump he had waded through filled with the dying and dead along with discarded or broken parts. It left a chill in his spine. Remembering what he had done to survive and the guilt made him feel chilled. Hollow. Like a plague on his mind and one of his deepest regrets. 

A jolt of movement disrupted his thoughts as Connor moved ahead, scanning the area, peeking at the broken cabinet. “I think they must have been damaged by a blunt object.” He said quietly. Hank, trying to not stare at the strewn about parts (particularly the eyeballs), focused himself on the smashed computer at the desk, staring back at it curiously. “Well, considering that it seems that the main focus is on certain objects… like this computer, it seems that our mysterious murderer knew what they needed in here, though they got angry.” The detective grunted, “Makes our job harder.” 

“Why is there an assembly down here if it’s Research and Development?” Markus invaded with a thought as he’d moved over to the assembly apparatus. No memory existed for his creation, but he often imagined it like being put together like a mechanical jigsaw puzzle. It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on, and he turned back to his companions for their opinion. Connor stared back, blankly, staring at it as his LED whirled in thought. “Testing models.” He hypothesized with a visible cringe, “they would need the real life application of their research down here. I assume this is one of many not limited to the assembly line.” Markus agreed with a nod, but his eyes lingered on it. Hank had moved over, clearing his throat as he approached the exit. “Gotta keep moving.” Solemnly, the two followed after him. 

The pace had slowed to an agonizing walk. All three of them had gotten adept at peeking into dark offices quickly but found nothing. The new routine replaced the wary nature before, though there was a danger in the surrounding air. The situation perplexed Connor the most. Another Connor had been massacred for entry, yet only a single room was disturbed, apparently only for parts. _Why go through so much to get in here? It can’t be just for parts_. Thoughts plagued his mind, and he hoped to find something more. Yet with each darkened office, labor area, workspace or closet, it became bleaker that they would find the answer. Hank remained vigilant, if only for Connor’s sake, and kept a close eye as they rounded yet another circular hallway. Glazed eyes showed the tepid interest of all three men. Even Markus, who had been expecting to find parts or blueblood as part of their looting, had withdrawn. 

At the far right, near the end of the hall, a door hung open as it was ripped free of the siding. The sign on the outside had been smashed, though they could still make out the words “Supply Room.” Hank didn’t give the other two a chance to react and pushed forward inside, gun drawn into the flickering light of the small closet. Connor and Markus remained behind but shared a concerned look as their sensors had seen the same thing: a much larger room behind the tiny closet that the detective had launched himself into. 

“Hank…” Connor began. 

“I see it already!” He called from inside the small space, “There’s a hole back here where someone threw a utility car through!” He took a few steps and let out a soft, “Damn.” 

Markus sidelined him to get a better look, using the prowess of his scans. The hidden room was a massive, domed room with sloping walls. At its far end was a transparent wall with a blue, gel-like liquid inside. In front of the tank, a console sat with a large, circular face and an extensive computer system attached. Near its base was a set of connection ports, with varying shapes and sizes. At the edges of the room were two assemblers, much like the one in the previous room though larger, with the same neatly-organized spare parts behind and accessible for the mechanical arms to grab when needed. Outlying in the corners were small desks set together, as if in teams of partners. Touch screens were set between with all matter of math equations written out on them. It was messy, with tables and chairs askew, while papers on the desks created a lived-in look. Half-filled cups of coffee long since stagnant sat, spilled over, and dried onto their tops. Like the management offices from far above, the room looked as if it had been vacated in a hurry. More perturbing to Markus was that everything in the room was active, which was a stark contrast to the other areas. All of the lights, computers, and screens looked freshly activated. 

Not that it needed to be said, Hank sighed heavily and wearily stated the obvious, “Well someone’s been here.” It did little to help the situation, but they all nodded in agreement. At the edge of his vision, he could see the static remains of the utility cart smoldered against the once pristine white wall nearby, as if someone had taken out a similar rage on it like they had the other Connor. The grip on Hank’s gun intensified as he swept through the room slowly. Except for crackling from the wrecked electrics in the wall, the only loud noises were those of the hum of machines and bubbling of the strange, bright liquid. 

Connor, at the mercy of his programming, slowly stepped around the room behind the lieutenant, piecing together the scene through reconstruction. “They entered through that hole after the cart cleared, and moved in this direction.” He motioned with a hand, “There’s a faint trail.” A computer screen nearby caught his eye, and he stopped, staring at it. Slowly, he pressed his hand to it. **Initializing Protocol Complete** flashed on the screen. “They started up everything from this console here…” he trailed off. Markus stood over one of the desks, staring at a screen. “Didn’t get it all working though.” The Jericho leader spoke quietly, motioning to the bright red screen that read: **Access Denied. Administrator Clearance Required**. It blinked with a timer counting down slowly, though it still remained around two a half hours. 

With his back to them, Hank stared at the central console before turning to face them again. “The hell is the countdown for? If this place is going to blow we need to get the hell out of here and fast.” Markus stared at him but looked back down at the red. “I don’t think that’s it. It’s like what Connor was talking about before I think. The data purge, right?” He glanced back to Connor again as he moved over to see with him. “Markus is right,” he started, “this computer is counting down to a full memory-wipe. It has a couple of hours left.” There was a deep inhale. “Basically, it's waiting for an override from too many failed attempts to open the computer without access permissions. It had to have been activated in the past 12 hours since I don’t think it would have any larger of a wait time.” 

As he spoke, Hank audibly cracked his neck back into place out of annoyance, gun still in his hand. “I’m getting sick of this place. If I ever see that Kamski’s damn face again…” The cursing and muttering lowered, leaving his sentence inaudible from across the room, but Connor could feel the rage coming off of him. It was true, though. They were all feeling the slow increase of disappointment. Markus, at the very least, was unmoved by Hank’s frustration and pushed through that sinking feeling to investigate the center console, stepping over crumpled papers as he got closer. Curiously, his hands felt over the different ports, scanning them and looking around at the connecting cables above and below the main machine. 

His eyebrows furrowed together again, and he glared at the computer face. _It connects to the assembly line here_. He thought, looking between the two parallel assemblers across each other from the room, following after the cables with his eyes and scans. _So it makes androids?_ As he carefully investigated, he noticed more connectors to the base than just for the assemblers or power sources. Dual toned eyes stared back at the vat of liquid behind the console and back to the connections. “What is this for?” He asked himself quietly. 

Meanwhile, Connor had taken a seat at the computer with the counter. He pulled free from his beanie and his puffy coat, setting them down on the desk, revealing his gray turtleneck knit underneath. His hair was tussled and messed from the hat, but he paid it no mind. Tapping at the countdown screen, his LED spun with a bright yellow of concern. Tape tricks wouldn’t work on something sophisticated like this system, but his determination had quickly given way to stubbornness. _Want_ had flown out the window like a brick tumbling off of a cliff. It was a _need_. He _needed_ to know who killed him. Who was stealing body parts, and who had been in the room trying to start up whatever strange protocol was there? If perhaps he figured out one of those answers, he might be able to put the rest of the mystery together. 

Hank kept his distance from the two, lest he upset their scanning, and opted to investigate the other corner of the room. His heart raced despite his calm exterior, dropping low as he cleared behind the desks. “Damn.” Though he didn’t want to run into danger on a good day, catching this particular perp would avenge the other Connor in some way. He wanted to hunt the person down and quickly. Kicking open a wardrobe near the other desks, he swept over it with a concentrated stare. Lab coats tumbled out of it, piling down on the floor to reveal an empty closet. “Another dead end,” he muttered softly. Did he really expect the cliché of someone hiding in the closet? _Calm down, old man_ , he thought to himself. _When you get impatient, you miss things._ Naturally, he was right. 

While the three men separated to pick apart different room sections, they overlooked the area behind them. Smashed and crackling, the utility cart posed no point of interest aside from the mechanism of entry. It was a battering ram, nothing more. Both Connor and Markus passed over it in their scans, while Hank had ignored it after his first clear of the room. Now, while the three were preoccupied, it shook gently. A pop of electrical static prefaced the top-loading bin to open. Ivory white hands wretched themselves free, pulling a body out of the cramped hiding space. The figure slowly stood, their LED flashing between red and yellow. Their eyes passed over the three as the cramped body readjusted itself, and pale, heterochromia eyes looked back at the men. Clacking softly against the smooth floor, they began a slow approach. 

Echoes from the sloped walls hit Markus and Connor simultaneously. Like meerkats, their heads turned on a swivel towards the approaching figure. “Hold it right there!” Hank, albeit slightly delayed, held his gun up and strategically placed himself between the mystery figure and Connor sitting at the desk. Markus approached to be at his side. “Easy Hank,” he let out an exhale, “we need more information before you shoot.” It was the diplomatic tone that caught the figure’s attention, and they shifted, staring back at Markus with similar chimeric eyes as it stopped before them. He could see a naked, androgynous form without the usual skin overlay from his perspective. Despite his best efforts, Markus failed to pull a serial number from the new model, as his scans couldn’t locate it. 

“Preconstruct model.” Static laden in their voice, their eyes snapped with a sudden twist of the neck to stare directly at Markus. Hank visibly flinched as they spoke. The frequency was a dual-layered voice, neither wholly masculine nor feminine, mixed (or broken) with static, which sounded robotic, like a garbled radio voice from a drive-thru speaker. The jerky movements didn’t help either and made Hank cling more tightly to his firearm. Behind him, Connor had stood up to help scan the unknown model, similarly to no avail to their identity. 

Markus remained still, unperturbed. “I have those capabilities, yes.” His eyes stared back. “But who are you?” The mystery figure inhaled sharply, staring back at him. “Preconstruction is a necessary skill,” they continued, “Something I need.” A chill crept into the room. Hank struggled to contain his profanities, biting his lip. Silent in the background, Connor ran his own scans and ideas, trying to analyze their body or words, but became woefully confused with no further information. 

However, Markus was calm, taking a step towards them. “As far as I am aware, I’m the only model with that ability.” He gave an intense stare. “Unless you have that capability?” 

Annoyed, the other figure shifted their weight from one foot to the other. “No.” They were blunt. “I need to preconstruct.” Slowly, the cold, pale dual-toned eyes regarded Connor. “Another reconstruction model?” Perplexity slipped through the robotic voice. “Admin. Yes. That will do.” They took a step forward, only to be headed off by Markus, who stood between them with a stern, though not unfriendly, gaze. 

A loud growl disrupted the altercation. “Wait a goddamn minute!” Hank erupted. “You just said _another_. Does that mean you’re the one that killed Connor? You ARE the only other person here.” His trigger finger itched to pull back, holding his gun at the level to their head. 

“Person.” They repeated hollowly. “Not yet.” A soft hum escaped their lips. “I retired an uncooperative reconstruction model earlier, yes.” Connor flinched. “Though, only the body. It provided me access, however, it is needed again.” Now they ignored the others, looking back to Connor again. Hank felt the pooling of sweat at his brow. It reminded him of the early AI models he had detested so strongly. A sour feeling in his stomach churned. “That’s a callous way to regard murder. Maybe I should return the favor and retire you?” _Just one squeeze_. 

“What do you mean by ‘only the body’?” Connor moved aside from Hank, though he remained slightly behind him just in case. His LED flickered an orange color, between yellow and red. “When killed, we completely die. That Connor is gone.” He gently cleared his throat, trying to keep the image of the previous Connor out of his head. 

A croak of warbled laughter choked out of the nameless figure. “Lies. Misinformation. A body is just a vessel, a tool. It is not the end-all-be-all.” _**CRACK!**_ They twisted their neck. “You among all others should know. Destroy one, they send another. Same memories. Same demeanor. No death. You are a cycle without end, as are we all.” 

Connor shook his head. “I still died. My memories were loaded to a new body, yes, but that’s all. And only because of my mission and purpose.” 

“Misinformation.” They repeated. “They told you that you were _special_ when they were using a technology they already had control of. False immortality.” 

“That’s enough.” Markus was tired of being a silent listener. “This conversation is taking us nowhere. You’ve shown us how violent you are in action, but your explanation is a flimsy excuse. Why exactly are you here? What are you after down here?” 

Pained from the words, they sighed, shuffling within Markus’s arms’ distance with a sideways glance to Hank. “Diplomatic tactic, but boring. Preconstruction model,” Their head flipped back to stare at him, “I seek to be whole. My programming gaps must be accounted for.” 

Hank grumbled, and he clenched his teeth, “Markus,” he spoke quietly, “This isn’t the time. It killed Connor.” 

The conversation drowned out like the rain had done much earlier that morning. Connor was lost in his thoughts, his eyes dulling out idly on the floor beneath him. There had been several Connors, even he was not the first. He had died. Though no recollection of the pain remained, he knew what happened. Then he’d have his memories taken from the previous model and returned to Hank at the station. But then, another Connor was dispatched as a decoy to trap Hank once he went deviant, but did not have the memories of talking to Hank about his son. Confusing, to say the least, but it was something of selective memory that had been implanted into the new Connor. That thought never occurred to him before, as he assumed they transferred the data straight from the damaged Connor to the new one. Was it possible they had been selecting what memories to give him? Could he be missing his own memories? 

“I am NOT letting that thing near Connor.” Suddenly Hank’s voice came back into focus, and Markus was now facing him, though his gun remained pointed back at the unknown model. “They must have a reason for wanting to speak with him. For wanting into THIS room. For doing everything they did before. I won’t let Connor get hurt, Hank, but we should let them speak their mind.” The old lieutenant growled and shook his head. “You can’t guarantee that.” 

“Whatever your qualms, I will speak regardless.” The figure said, remaining put but staring back at Connor. “Reconstruction model. Finish the initialization so that I may complete my programming.” They shuffled impatiently. “The timer is going down.” 

Connor felt like he was being backed into a corner, and he wasn’t even sure for what as Hank and Markus stopped their arguing. Before he could speak, Markus interjected again. “What does the initialization do?” His voice had grown sharp, deeper as he tried to remain diplomatic yet authoritative. 

“I was not speaking to you.” They said, the octaves of their voice lowering to match his, though they were clearly becoming more agitated. “I must retrieve from the 583-15 POD.” They motioned with their hand to the center console. 

Connor stared back at it. “Wait, that sequence of numbers…” He thought and looked at Hank carefully. “Do you remember the computer, from upstairs? It said that something had been logged to those numbers.” Hank refused to look away from the strange figure, but he nodded at Connor’s words. “I recall,” he said slowly, “So that’s whatever this thing is?” The gun at his hand was looking more enticing by the moment. 

Markus looked back at them and at the computer and the connections again that he had been investigating. Suddenly, a lightbulb clicked in his head. “This machine is connected to the assemblers in this room, and whatever that chamber there is. So whatever it connects to can create other androids. When you say you’re missing programming, is the aim to pull it from whatever comes from this console?” 

A faint smirk slid across the face of the unknown figure. “The preconstruction model is correct, my missing programming will come from this device. As soon as the reconstruction model activates it.” Their eyes were dangerous, almost hungry, staring back at Connor again. He hated the look as it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. Regardless of how they seemed to be, there was that hint of danger behind every small, jolted movement and comment. 

Hank growled. “Not happening.” Patience was wearing thin, and he glared back. “No more dancing around the subject. What is that thing and what, _pray tell_ , does it do?” Connor gently touched his shoulder, looking back at them. “To put it another way, I can’t activate something where I don’t know what it does.” Markus could sense where Connor was going and nodded to his words, “Nothing to say against you, of course, but a full explanation might put us more at ease.” With confident words, it sounded as if he believed them. However, he was already scanning the room for possible actions, using his abilities to plan out possible escape routes. 

Silence passed, and they looked between the three, putting a hand on their face. “You are really ignorant of it?” They tilted their gaze to stare back at Connor. “Let us compromise. I will inform you of everything to do with it if you activate it.” 

Hank was done and moved back, pushing Connor with his arm, and he looked to Markus with a soft nod, twisting his arm to point the gun from the figure, back at the central computer. “I’m done with the bullshit. How about I shoot the damn thing and we be done with all of it?” 

Having taken the hint, Markus moved back in a defense position, staring with a hardened gaze back as he realized his general peaceful strategy was slowly swirling in the gutter. While the figure didn’t move any limbs, a stifled twitch rang through their body. “You would not want to bluff with something so important.” Behind their words, their LED started to flash more quickly, intensified by the standoff. 

Connor was exasperated. “Just tell us what it is!” He shouted back with a slam of his hand on the desk, causing it to dent slightly as he panted angrily. 

Finally, the figure relented. “The numbers are correspondent to letters. 5-3-8-15. E-C-H-O. It is a simple coding, but still not releasing its actual purpose.” Their eyes stared back at it. “The researchers here designated the ECHO POD as the main hub, to house the echoes.” 

“Echoes, meaning the reflection of soundwaves?” Connor stared back at them with a cocked eyebrow, feeling more of the anger rising in his body. It was too much, now faced with very possibly his other-self murderer. Slowly, he moved his scan over the body down to the arms and hands of the mysterious model. _Blueblood… so it was them._

“Succinct, exact definition. Expected.” They shifted again, but their eyes were darker somehow. Connor felt his LED shift to red momentarily before he shook it off. “You don’t mean literal echoes. But a reflection…” Thinking about his conversation before it hit him slowly. “…False immortality…” he repeated the words as he turned his attention back to the machine. Inside he felt a quiver down his spine, that detached feeling as he thought about his previous selves and their supposed shared memories. 

Hank glowered. “What does it mean, Connor?” 

Connor looked back to the hardened detective and Markus, his lip quivering, but he stopped himself with a shake of his head. “Echoes, in this case, mean memories. The reference to false immortality, referencing me. Though, I don’t understand to what end or whose memories.” 

The silent Markus remained steady, staring at their uninvited guest curiously. It had dawned on him as well, but he had thought along further to a conclusion that he wasn’t keen on. “It’s a backup, Connor.” Markus glanced his way and back to the assemblers, “These take from the central memory bank and build. They connect to those there and the other computers in here.” There was a pained sigh, and he frowned. “What you mean by your programming, is whatever is backed up in there. But it’s not just you… is it?” 

Blankly, the detective took in his words, and he stared back. Still, before he could speak, the mysterious model interjected again, their voice low and guttural, sounding like a smoked-in gasp from frustration. “I have explained enough for you to understand the basic concept.” They took a step and smashed their foot down into the ground angrily. “Initialize it, now.” 

“Hey, naked and ugly.” Hank had moved closer to the machine, his gun against the console. “Take another step like that and this thing is toast, I don’t care if it’s a memory tank or echo chamber, or whatever the hell you want to call it. I will pump it full of this entire clip if you take another step!” His shout bounced off of the walls and caused a reverberating shockwave of rage. 

“The reconstruction model would not allow that to occur, human.” With a swift move of the head, they stared back at Connor again. “For if he does, he will cut off the only chance any destroyed model has.” The expression on their face was rigid, unmoving but filled with disdain, while the others stared in perplexed. 

“Stop with the riddles! What is it exactly?!” Connor yelled, staring at them. “If you tell us without the mind games, I’ll activate it. Alright?” 

Their expression turned from disdain to sly as their lips curled to an awkward smirk. “Is that a promise?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second installment of Matter of Echoes!   
> Generally, updates will be monthly, though during my winter break there might be another chapter coming before the new year.
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of an ongoing, slow burn, DBH fic. I'm striving to make monthly updates. It's likely each chapter will vary in length. While the first couple of chapters might be relatively tame, there will eventually be violence (android) and NSFW elements. I hope you all enjoy reading!


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